This was the only damn way, the most efficient and only certain way to get the rings from Lilith. He of all people knew what she wanted. He knew how to manage her insofar as she could be managed.
Victoria didn’t.
The simple fact was, aside from him, the other thing Lilith wanted more than anything in the world was Victoria-Eustacia’s prodigy and Illa Gardella.
He glanced at Vioget, who rode next to him. They, along with Michalas, had left Prague just as dawn broke, Max slipping reluctantly from the chamber where Victoria still lay sleeping. As well she should be. It had been a very busy night after that bath. And during.
Hell. His fingers were still unsteady. Damn, and his palms grew damp at the mere memory of those last hours.
He didn’t know whether there’d ever be a repeat of a night like that again. Now his belly soured, and he thrust away thoughts of the future. One step at a time, one moment at a time.
Victoria would be damn furious when she woke to find him gone, even more bloody angry when she realized what he meant to do. His lips flattened, and he corralled his determination. Max had made his decision as he always did-the right one, the only one. He understood the repercussions.
She bloody well would have to understand and accept it. Just as he had.
She had to close that portal-and sooner rather than later, for next time there might not be a chance to rescue Wayren. Or beat those demons back.
There was no better way. She’d have to accept that.
Victoria was Illa Gardella, and she was bloody damn smart. After she got past the anger, the shock, she’d understand.
She might never forgive him, but she’d understand why.
The burn of rage and pain hadn’t subsided in the least since she left Prague, nearly a week ago.
Victoria rode like a fiend, stopping only for a few short hours of rest each night, driving Brim to keep up with her pace despite her increasing weariness. Wayren had returned to Rome at Victoria’s strong suggestion-where she might remain safe in the Consilium. They could call for her if she was needed, but Victoria wanted to take no chances with Wayren’s safety now that the Trial was over.
And Sebastian and Michalas had gone with Max.
She’d alternated between fury and relief that he’d taken them with him. He wouldn’t face Lilith alone-but how dared he circumvent her and sneak off into the night with two Venators. Michalas she could perhaps understand, for he’d worked with Max for years… but Sebastian as well?
The hope that she and Brim might overtake the others kept urging her on, but no matter how quickly they traveled, there was no sign of them, no word from anyone who might have seen the trio along the way. She wasn’t even certain where Lilith’s lair in Muntii Fagaras was, a fact she was sure Max had used to his advantage.
She didn’t want to think about what else he’d done to get the advantage. Making love to her, lulling her into complacency…
Promise me you won’t leave like that again.
I’m not going to promise that, Victoria.
No indeed. She had no illusions; Max had known exactly what he intended to do even then. Likely before they’d even arrived in Prague. In fact, she suspected he’d known from the moment he learned that they would need to obtain two rings from Lilith. Stupid, foolish Victoria not to have predicted his pattern of thought herself.
So, knowing that she’d never allow it, he’d taken the decision from her.
Damn him.
And then he’d left Brim to meet her when she came out of the chamber that still had damp marks on the floor, and to detain her from leaving right away. At least Max had had the courtesy to leave a note for her.
I’m the best person to deal with Lilith. I will obtain the rings. She won’t give them up easily.
And, as he reminded her further, in the heavy, masculine scrawl that perfectly matched his arrogance, he could have resorted to the same trick she’d done to him only a few weeks ago-using salvi to render her deeply asleep so that he could make his escape. That simple comment was meant to remind her that she too had made a similar choice, and that he’d eventually come to accept it. Forgiveness was another matter.
Forgiveness, acceptance… those were too far away for her to consider right now. All Victoria wanted was to find Max, to lay eyes-and hands, furious hands-on him and show him that there was another way.
There had to be.
But Max had planned well, which was no surprise, and by the time Victoria and Brim reached the foothills of the Romanian mountain that held Lilith’s lair, they’d encountered no one who’d seen the three Venators. And they could go no farther, for neither Victoria nor Brim knew how to find the hidden place.
“Sebastian didn’t seem to know exactly where the magical pool is,” Victoria said, shielding her eyes against the sun rising over the mountain in front of her. They’d slept from midnight until four o’clock, then risen and gone as far as they could. “He didn’t tell me its name or any other information, other than that the orb was hidden inside.”
“Max said that they would find us when they had the rings,” Brim told her. “You look like you’ve not slept in a week, Victoria. Perhaps since we can go no farther, you should rest for a bit.”
She was exhausted. And heartsick. And furious. All of which had kept her from getting any good sleep since leaving Prague. She didn’t want to rest, to waste time that could be spent searching for Max. Dragging him out of whatever situation he’d tried to put himself in.
But aside of all that, Victoria was a practical woman, and she knew Brim spoke the truth. She would be no good to anyone if she didn’t take care of herself; even Venators couldn’t go on forever at the pace she’d set.
She agreed to take a room in the village nearby, and, with one last glance out at the stark mountain rearing up to block the yellowing sky, she slept well and deeply while Brim kept watch.
The room felt stifling. Dark, warm, and red… red everywhere: in the burning fires, the cloth-draped furnishings, the dark wall hangings. Crimson swirls on maroon, twisting about cabernet and scarlet. Sebastian felt as though he’d entered a furnace. And the smell. Roses. Strong and sweet, laced with evil and desire.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, my dear Maximilian?” Lilith’s eyes gleamed with pleasure. They glowed red, pure, vibrant red, and the burning irises were rimmed with blue as befit her station as Queen of the Vampires, daughter of Judas Iscariot.
Sebastian glanced at the man in question, wondering yet again how he managed it: the impassive, haughty expression that belied no discomfort even as the vampire queen’s obsession oozed through the chamber, cloaking it like heavy velvet. The way she looked at Pesaro made Sebastian’s skin crawl, and he wasn’t even the object of her gaze.